Shattered Masks

The gala glittered like a trap.

Crystal chandeliers dripped gold light over velvet drapes, champagne glasses sparkled on silver trays, and the air buzzed with laughter too sharp to be sincere. Wolves from every pack in New York crowded the ballroom, wrapped in designer suits and glittering gowns, their perfume masking the musk of power beneath.

Aiden hated every second of it.

He stood rigid beside Dante, jaw clenched, tie choking him. Cameras flashed endlessly, blinding, each snap another reminder that the council had shoved him into this nightmare. Show unity, they’d said. As if standing shoulder to shoulder with his enemy would convince anyone of peace.

Dante, of course, thrived. Golden eyes glinted under the lights, his smile smooth and dangerous. He worked the crowd with infuriating ease, clinking glasses, tossing smirks, brushing past reporters like he owned the room.

“You look like you swallowed nails,” Dante murmured without turning his head.

Aiden ground his teeth. “Maybe I did. At least I didn’t choke on the spotlight.”

Dante’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “Please. You’d like it if I did.”

Aiden’s pulse ticked hot. He leaned closer, hissing, “Careful. I might shove you into it myself.”

“Don’t tease,” Dante said, voice low and maddening. “Unless you plan to follow through.”

Before Aiden could fire back, a reporter shouted from the front row: “Mr. Blackthorn! Mr. Veyron! A smile for the city?”

The cameras turned, hungry.

Dante didn’t hesitate. He slung an arm around Aiden’s shoulders, tugging him in, his grin blinding under the lights. The crowd laughed, charmed.

Aiden shoved him off so hard that Dante almost spilled his drink. Laughter rippled sharper this time, less charmed, more curious.

The flashes popped like fireworks.

Backstage, Aiden slammed the door so hard the walls rattled.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped.

Dante leaned against the table, infuriatingly calm. “A smile.”

“You humiliated me in front of the entire city!”

Golden eyes glittered. “Funny. They didn’t look humiliated. They looked entertained.”

Aiden’s chest heaved. “You think this is a game?”

Dante’s smirk faded, voice dropping into something sharper. “No. I think this is survival. Out there, they smell weakness. And right now, you’re reeking of it.”

Aiden’s wolf snarled under his skin. “Say that again.”

Dante stepped closer, heat rolling off him. “Weak,” he whispered.

Something snapped.

Aiden’s fist shot out, grabbing Dante’s collar. He slammed him against the wall, rage sparking like wildfire. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Dante didn’t flinch. He leaned in, lips brushing Aiden’s ear. “Then stop me.”

The words detonated inside him.

His mouth crashed into Dante’s before thought could catch up. The kiss was violence and surrender all at once—teeth clashing, heat burning through every nerve. Dante’s hands gripped his waist, pulling him closer, and Aiden fisted his shirt like he’d die if he let go.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was war turned into fire, hate turned into hunger.

For one blazing second, Aiden forgot everything but the heat of Dante’s mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the way his wolf roared with something he couldn’t name.

And then the flash.

Aiden froze. He tore back just in time to see the door cracked open, a reporter’s wide eyes behind the lens. The camera clicked again before the door slammed shut and footsteps pounded down the hall.

“Shit,” Aiden whispered.

Dante swore under his breath. “We have to—”

Too late. The buzz started outside, voices rising, spreading like wildfire. By the time they stepped out, half the ballroom had their phones raised. The first headlines were already live.

BLACKTHORN + VEYRON: ENEMIES TO LOVERS?

Forbidden Heirs Caught Kissing Backstage!

Alliance or Affair?

The crowd roared, half laughing, half scandalized.

Aiden’s father’s face thundered across the room. Adrian’s fury radiated so hot it burned the air. Beside him, Lucien Veyron looked ready to rip someone apart—preferably his son.

The music died. The whispers didn’t.

The car ride back was suffocating. Aiden sat stiff in the backseat, his father beside him, silence like a blade pressed to his throat.

At the estate, Adrian finally spoke. His voice was cold steel. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Aiden forced himself to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t—”

“You shamed this family,” Adrian cut in. “You made us a laughingstock. Every pack in this city saw its heirs groping in a hallway like reckless pups. Our enemies will see weakness. Our allies will smell blood. You’ve ruined everything.”

The words hit harder than claws.

Aiden opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His father turned away, disgust plain in every line of his shoulders.

“You’re not ready to lead,” Adrian said finally, voice sharp as a blade. “You may never be.”

The words carved deeper than any wound.

Across the city, Dante faced fire of his own.

Lucien Veyron’s voice cracked like a whip. “You dare embarrass me with him? Do you think this family can afford a scandal?”

Dante stood silent, shoulders squared.

“You are my heir,” Lucien snarled. “My legacy. And you will not throw that away for lust.”

The word hit harder than a strike. Dante’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

“You will end this,” Lucien snapped. “Or I’ll end you.”

Dante left the room without a word. But his hands shook.

The city feasted on scandal.

By midnight, the kiss was everywhere—grainy videos replayed, headlines screaming across every screen, social media alight with hashtags. #EnemyToLover? #ForbiddenHeirs

Aiden sat on his balcony, the skyline burning gold and silver. His phone buzzed endlessly—friends, enemies, strangers clawing for a piece of him. He didn’t answer any.

He should have hated Dante more than ever. He should have sworn never to touch him again.

But all he could taste was the kiss.

All he could feel was the fire it lit in him, a fire that wouldn’t go out no matter how he tried to smother it.

And he hated himself most of all for wanting more.

Across the city, Dante poured himself a drink he didn’t finish. He sat in silence, staring at the headlines splashed across his phone. His father’s fury still echoed in his ears.

He should have regretted it. He should have sworn it meant nothing.

But when he closed his eyes, he still felt Aiden’s grip on his shirt, the bite of his mouth, the way his wolf had surged like it had finally found something worth fighting for.

For the first time in years, Dante didn’t feel untouchable. He felt dangerous.

And he wanted more.